


She's Afraid of Touching Him

by TheSocialExperiment



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, Welcome to Nightvale, wtnv
Genre: Abandonment, Alone, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSocialExperiment/pseuds/TheSocialExperiment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PostWorld!Cecil. He's alone. Everyone is gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Afraid of Touching Him

"Welcome to Night Vale, a friendly desert community where the sun is still hot, the moon is still beautiful, and mysterious lights still pass over head, but no one is left to pretend to sleep."

The world ended slowly, not with a bang of a world war, but with a whimper of time running out. Assuming time was ever real, of course. 

Cecil sits in the ruins of the former Radio Station, speaking into a rusty microphone. There is no one left to listen to him. He still hadn't checked to see of the microphone was actually connected to anything. 

The desert never changes. A group of people could come along and built up a town, a prideful little town, but it all returns to the sand in the end. 

Very few buildings remained. Cecil held the Radio Station and the building that was formally Carlos' lab together. A couple of others had survived the test of time, but were losing the war to the weather. 

Cecil lost hold of his human form centuries ago. There were no humans left, so there was no need to hold on to that illusion. 

His true form spilled out of his recording booth and tumbled into every room in the Radio Station. 

Only his voice remained the same, a comforting lullaby that cradled the memory of humanity. Oh, how he had loved humanity. Dark and despairing and wonderful and such odd little lives they lived, and how he loved them. But they were gone like a candle, extinguished. 

It was just Cecil now, narrating to the empty sand dunes and the void overhead. 

"And now, dear listeners, the weather..."

Even Carlos withered away, perfect Carlos. His lab remained sealed up, preserved and pristine. 

The angels ascended, taking Old Woman Josie with them. 

The hooded figures vanished with the destruction of the dog park in a riot. Everyone involved in the riot died from unknown causes. The spot former known as the dog park is still prohibited. 

Khoshekh, the cat who was floating at exactly four feet in the men's bathroom, ripped a spatial portal open and was sucked into it. Cecil can still hear his hungry meow every once in a while, making him long for the cat's reassuring companionship once again. 

Big Rico, Mayor Pamela, Steve Carlsberg, Hiram McDaniels... everyone in the town died so very long ago. 

He was alone. So very...frightfully...alone. But aren't we all?

Mother Nature left Cecil in peace. Even she was afraid of touching him.


End file.
